Effulgence

prelude

Spike looked around the shabby room in the factory. Yes, this would do nicely, he decided, but they'd have to get new linens for the bed, and...

His train of thought was interrupted by a soft mewling sound from behind him. He turned to see Drusilla standing in the doorway, her hands at her temples.

"Dru? Pet, what's wrong?" He crossed the room in two long strides and took her gently around the shoulders, guiding her to the bed and helping her sit down.

"It's all petals and dust in here," replied the dark-haired vampiress as she slowly covered her face with her hands. She wobbled a bit quietly, leaning against her companion as if for support. In an instant, however, she was back on her feet and in a fit of wicked pique. "PETALS AND DUST!"

Spike frowned. Dru had been too weak to get herself so excitable as of late, and the adamant way she declared the riddle-like fruits of what he assumed was another vision was disconcerting. He looked around the room, which certainly was dusty, but there was nothing obvious he saw that accounted for "petals."

He sighed wearily and watched her as she moved about the room in agitated little steps and hops, quirking her head around as if in response to noises only she could hear. "Luv," he finally said gently, "once we get your things settled in, this'll feel more like home, I promise."

Drusilla shook her head and pouted. "Miss Edith won't like it here. She tells me it will all go down in fire and bloody screaming death!"

At this, Spike couldn't help but chuckle. "But, darling, we LIKE that sort of thing."

"Smells of her already," said Drusilla, with wrinkled nose and dismal pout. She placed a fragile hand against her chest and made her way back over to the aged bed. As her fingers took a stroll across one of the wooden four-posts, she asked in a calm voice, "Promise me you'll never leave me here for her? She'll make you do such terrible things and I won't get to play..."

Spike's reply came just as easily as ever, "I promise, pet. Just you and me here now." It didn't ever require a second thought; not that Spike ever gave much effort into translating Drusilla's more cryptic ramblings. She saw things, true, but Angelus had permanently absented her from sanity, and so her mind was never really all there. He loved her that way, though. Without ties to reality, he never had to worry about her having second thoughts on... anything, really. She lived for the moment and the future all at once.

Still, the way her pretty brow furrowed over her dark, glittering eyes upset him, and before he had a chance to determine whether it was worth it or not, the words were out of his mouth: "But, luv, who is 'she'?"

Dru clucked at him in admonition. "Mustn't find her, mustn't do it," she said in her little singsong voice. She flew to his side and sat in his lap, stroking his cheek. "May I do her in, my dear precious Spike? I want to be a killer of her kind, too, and not just the strange one from ever so far away..."

He lost interest in her ramblings now, transfixed by the proximity of her lips, which she'd adorned in deep crimson, contrasting so strikingly with the pallor of her skin. He nodded dumbly merely to placate her, and placed his hand on the left side of his chest. "I promise you anything you want, pet," he said indulgently.

His sire leaned her forehead against his and curled a hand against his cheek, stroking the line of his chiseled cheekbones and purred, "That's my Spike." The laugh that then bubbled to eruption from her lips was both sweet and sinister. Spike grinned widely and tightened his grip on her waist, which made her squeak with glee, her eyes going wide and brilliant. He nuzzled at her throat roughly, and her laughter devolved into a quiet keening.

Their brief intimacy was interrupted all too quickly as suddenly Dru turned her head to stare blankly into the empty doorway. "Someone's called the King of Cups," she said, sounding at once both alarmed and excited.

Spike groaned as Drusilla hopped off his lap and danced merrily toward the door. "He's coming!" she cried, clapping her hands in glee.

Spike fell back against the bed and sighed. "Well, he'll still be comin' in an hour, won't he?" he muttered with barely restrained bitterness.

Dru turned back to him. "Naughty naughty boy, always got to be --"

Her words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a scrawny fledgling. "Um, Mister... Spike?" he asked nervously.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, what is it? We're trying to get settled here."

The vampire shrank back and grimaced. "I'm sorry, sir, but we think we've found the slayer."

Spike grinned broadly. "Oh, do tell, mate!" He sat up and looked at the fellow with interest, not noticing Dru's pained expression as she wandered from the doorway and made her way downstairs.

Her fingers hovered but centimeters from the wall as she took each step bit-by-bit, carefully descending into the depths of the dark sub-basement. It was nearly pitch black but she needed no other light to see. Her vampiric eyes glittered golden as her face morphed into the visage of the demon that wore her skin. “Run and catch,” she began to sing, just under her breath. “The lamb is caught... in the... blackberry patch...”

The lower lever of the basement was nothing more than bulk storage, filled with scraps of discarded sheet metal and other sundry refuse. And rats. Plenty of rats. Drusilla stalked a particularly round rodent, having longed for the kill since her incapacitation. She was nowhere near up to her full strength, however, and the game of chasing the little creature around the bowels of the factory soon wore her down. She let out a frustrated shriek and then promptly collapsed into a pile of pretty white silk and lace.

The fledgling filled Spike in on the details of the slayer's whereabouts, and when the other vampire left the room, Spike let out a mischievous laugh. "Best news we've had all day, i'n'it, pet?" he asked, turning around and expecting to see Drusilla...

But she was gone.

"Dru?" he called nervously. "Are you hiding, luv?" He strode over to the heavy draperies covering the windows, swatted them lightly to see if she might be concealing herself behind them, and, not finding her, he flew from the room with a roar.

The vampires collected in the lower level of the factory looked up in surprise as Spike leapt from the staircase, duster billowing out behind him like a pair of wings. "All right, what've you lot done with her?!" he demanded.

"Done with...?" one of them began.

"Drusilla, you bugger!" Spike said, wrapping his hand around the vampire's neck and lifting him out of his seat. He whimpered, meek eyes wide behind little round glasses.

"Please don't hurt me, sir!"

Spike glared and dropped him to the floor in a crumpled heap. He threw his hands wide, shook his head a bit, and his face shifted into his demon visage. His fangs glinted in the candlelight as he walked slowly, menacingly around the table. "Which one of you bleeding IDIOTS was STUPID enough to muck about with my lady, then?" He looked at each one of the cowering figures in turn, shoving a few as he passed them. "You saw what I did to your little leader, didn't you?" he asked. "Who's goin' to be next for that treatment?"

He stopped abruptly when he heard a noise behind him, and turned on his heel, his face softening back to its human state. The metal door of the sub-basement groaned in agony as a pale, delicate hand meekly pushed it open from the other side. Slowly, Drusilla crept up the stairs and moved across the floor ghostly silent until she was at Spike's side. "Am I missing the party?" she asked with a tender cant of her head. She looked more out of sorts than usual; dress slightly sullied and showing little rips, hair mussed with curls pulled loose from the crown of her head, and her eyes... so wide and wild with lunatic calm.

Spike leaned his head towards hers and asked, "All right then, pet? No party here just yet, though, if that's what you want?"

"Miss Edith and I have been ever so good, though I think she harbors sinful longings. Finished all of our cakes, we have," replied the dark-haired vampire with a bit of a pout emerging. "Kill her and we'll have a party, Spike. I want her dead!" She reached her hands out in excitement and curled her fingers in her progeny's shirt tightly. Spike neither leapt nor seemed surprised by her actions, though the rest of the gawking minions murmured with an unsettled tone.

With a soothing pitch, he replied, "Can't have you going hungry, can I, luv?" He gave a pointed look to one of the lackeys nearby and jerked his head towards the door. "We'll have you brought something nice and young. Nothing but the best..."

Dru smiled, her eyes wide and excited. She didn't say a word before grasping Spike by the lapels of his duster and kissing him hard and deep. The other vampires turned their attention away from the pair and began to talk amongst each other, some drifting off to other parts of the factory. Oblivious to their discomfort, Spike broke the kiss long enough to sweep Drusilla up into his arms and carry her upstairs.

He placed her gently, reverently on the bed and gave her another long kiss, climbing atop her delicate form and moving her skirts out of the way so he could nestle himself between her legs. She purred as he nipped at her neck and gave a little sigh of disappointment when he drew himself up and gazed down at her.

"Love me, my dark, darling knight," she pouted.

Spike regarded her hungrily. "Soon, pet," he promised, "but we've got to get you strong, haven't we?" He made a snapping motion at her and growled low in his throat. "Have a rest, and when I come back, I'll have a present for you."

She bit her lower lip briefly. "We can play then?"

He nodded, and climbed from the bed. "But you have to be a good girl and sleep for a bit, right?"

"Oh, my, yes," Drusilla said happily, "and then we'll make the little wrong one pay and hurt and die very slowly, won't we?"

Still confused by this train of thought, Spike tilted his head non-committally, not quite a nod. "Er, yes, of course, ducks, anything you want," he told her. "I'll be back very soon."

He left, and Dru settled down against the dingy pillows in great need of fluffing. She stared up at the ceiling wistfully. "We must, you know," she murmured to herself, "we must keep that one away from you."

Spike traveled back downstairs feeling strangely ill at ease. It disturbed him to see the woman he loved in such poor condition. She'd never been the same since Prague and she was becoming more and more fragile by the day. He hoped the power of the Hellmouth would send her on the mend; otherwise, what would he do if... No. He wouldn't think about the "if."

Returning to the main scuttle of vampires in the factory, he sat down and made them go through every bit of information they had about the slayer. No detail was to be left out; nothing too small to go unmentioned. He thought long and hard what to do next and how to go about restoring his beloved. Perhaps the blood of the slayer might help? It had so many other mystical qualities, after all...

The next few weeks went by like a whirlwind. Having grown tired of his every action criticized by the Annoying One, Spike introduced the boy vampire to a second early demise. From that point, the tide of power shifted and it was Spike calling the shots of the local fang gangs.

His interest in running the show, however, was secondary to seeing Drusilla brought back to full strength. The mobs in Prague were vicious, and, though they both nearly died, Dru was by far the worse for wear. She was growing restless with the life of an "indoor kitty," and he knew that soon things would get to the point of breaking -- she would fight or she would flee.

Neither option was appealing.